William Shakespeare peered across the room. A sad-looking dark-haired girl sat at a table on her own. After scrutinising her arse for a few seconds, Shakespeare decided he should go over to see what was wrong.
"You all right?" he enquired.
"Ahh, ...

"Well of course you're losing," said Sophie Ellis-Bextor. "Why do you insist on wearing those clownish clothes even when you're doing sport?"
"There's nothing clownish about them," spat William Shakespeare, turning to pick up the volleyball once again.
"You've got no freedom ...

"Just a coffee please, Neil," said Sophie Ellis-Bextor.
Neil Codling from Suede placed the order in perfect French then smiled at Ellis-Bextor.
"You seem to speak the language very well," she said.
"Yes, I lived here for a year or two," said ...

“Look, this one’s got vacancies,” said Sophie Ellis-Bextor, turning off the road and into a giant and largely empty car park.
“A motel,” spat William Shakespeare haughtily.
“There’s nothing wrong with motels,” said Ellis-Bextor, aiming for a wide parking space near the office.
“A motor hotel,” said Shakespeare. “Nothing that has a name that is a blend of two other words is ever worthwhile.”
“You’re telling me that’s your problem with motels?” said Ellis-Bextor. “That’s your only reason for...

Shakespeare gripped the laminated menu with both hands. “They put cheese on fucking everything,” he said.
“It’s not on everything,” said Sophie Ellis-Bextor. “Don’t exaggerate.”
“No, it’s not on the mozzarella sticks,” said Shakespeare. “Fuck me, no wonder they’re all so fucking obese. Look at that fat bastard over there.” He gestured at a giant man in a polo shirt and baseball cap, sitting on his own. “He must have about 60 per cent body fat. That’s more than a pork scratching.”
“Just choose...

Sophie Ellis-Bextor was putting petrol in the car while William Shakespeare stood nearby, contributing nothing whatsoever. A large middle-aged woman in horn-rimmed spectacles stopped next to them on her way back to a giant saloon car.
“Hey, are you William Shakespeare?” she said. “I’m a massive fan of your work.”
“Fuck off,” spat Shakespeare and stared at her as she slunk off looking hurt and confused.
“Why do you have to be like that?” asked Sophie Ellis-Bextor. “She might have been a fan of your sonnets.”
“She was a fucking...

Sophie Ellis-Bextor: Dear Lord, where have you been?
William Shakespeare: Nowhere.
Ellis-Bextor: What do you mean, nowhere? Where have you been?
Shakespeare: Ah, you know.
Ellis-Bextor: What? No, I don’t know. You’ve been gone months. Where the hell have you been all this time? Do you not think I’ve been worried?
Shakespeare: Look, just leave me alone, okay. Stop going on at me.
Ellis-Bextor: Don’t you dare speak to me like that. I’ve been at my wit’s end.
Shakespeare: Have you?
Ellis-Bextor: Of course I have.
Shakespeare: At your wit’s end?
Ellis-Bextor:...